


The Burrow

by SeekerSpock32



Series: Harry Potter: Golden Generation [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst giving way to comedy, Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:07:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24244006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeekerSpock32/pseuds/SeekerSpock32
Summary: After it looks like Harry may never return to his true home, salvation comes in the form of three friends.
Series: Harry Potter: Golden Generation [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1726438
Kudos: 9





	The Burrow

**Author's Note:**

> Set during Chamber of Secrets. This will, in all likelihood, be the earliest-set work in the entire series.

On the third night after the house-elf named Dobby had come to Number Four Privet Drive, Harry Potter sat dejected in his bedroom. In one fell swoop, this house-elf had ruined Harry’s life, maybe for good. While Harry was fairly sure Dobby had meant well, it had been a disaster on Harry’s end. Shortly after Dobby had left, Harry received a letter saying that if he used any more magic outside school, he would be expelled from Hogwarts. Dobby had doubtlessly made sure that Harry wouldn’t go back to Hogwarts this year, if ever again. If last year was one of hope for Harry having a good life, the past three days had been filled with nothing but despair. Harry didn’t really care if terrible things were to happen at Hogwarts. If they did, he and his friends might repeat the success from their last year, anyway. Hogwarts was his home in a way that Number Four Privet Drive could never stack up to, and Professor Dumbledore was still in charge of the place, so it had to be safe. 

Harry had passed over anger at this house-elf and was now consumed by sadness. It wasn’t as if the whole summer had not been one of unexpected sadness. Harry had thought his best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger had somehow forgotten him and not written to him all summer. However, these letters had been intercepted by Dobby. Harry had tried to retrieve them but Dobby magically disappeared before Harry could get them. Dobby had also destroyed the Dursleys’ dinner with the Masons, meaning that the real consequence was that the Dursleys took all their anger out on Harry, even more than usual. 

In the three days since Dobby’s warning, the Dursleys worked harder than ever to keep Harry under wraps. Knowing Harry couldn’t use magic, Uncle Vernon had installed bars on Harry’s window and taken all of his books that weren’t already locked under the stairs and put them there. Harry was only given food, and meagre food at that, twice a day, and only let out to use the bathroom three times a day. They allowed Dudley to punch Harry just as many times a day. The only thing he managed to keep was his wand under a floorboard beneath his bed. It was nothing short of solitary confinement. Harry had loads of time to think about Hogwarts, but he tried not to. He figured it was better to not raise his hopes. At first, Harry had hoped that Dumbledore would send Hagrid to rescue him like last year, because that had worked splendidly and the Dursleys already knew Hagrid was not a person to be taken lightly. However, no sign of Hogwarts’ gentle giant of a gamekeeper had appeared at Privet Drive outside Harry’s window, nor were there any booming knocks at the door in the middle of the night. 

Harry also had a lot of time to think about the Dursleys. He wondered why he had even been sent back here in the first place, as surely there would be someone who would be willing to take him in, if the reactions to him in Diagon Alley were to be the basis for such thought. Harry wondered why the Dursleys had even accepted him back at all. Based on Harry’s interactions with Dudley, Aunt Petunia, and Uncle Vernon, Harry had thought that they’d much rather not have to deal with him anymore. Even though Harry wasn’t responsible for the dinner party disaster three nights ago, it still had occurred because he was still living in their house. If Harry had been allowed to live with another family, perhaps the Grangers or the Thomases, who both lived nearby in London, the Dursleys would never have to see Harry again, and they could go back to their desired normal lives. If Dumbledore believed that love was the most powerful form of magic, then he ought to have known better than to send Harry back to the Dursleys. 

“ _ Or maybe it wasn’t Dumbledore’s decision,”  _ Harry thought to himself, “ _ But who else’s authority overrides Dumbledore’s?”  _

Whatever the reason Harry was still at the Dursleys, it seemed like this would be the only place he’d ever be allowed to go for a very, very long time. The Dursleys hadn’t even registered him for the state school. He likely wouldn’t be going to school at all. He probably wouldn’t get to have any friends anymore, even if he could, said friends would be less close than Ron and Hermione. This realisation set in Harry’s mind, and he got into bed. He pulled off his glasses, pulled the sheets over him, (his already meek comforter had been confiscated, although that didn’t matter much in the summer) turned onto the side that could see out the barred window, and started crying. He had to be careful while crying though, as earlier the same day, Uncle Vernon had seen tear streaks on Harry’s face. Instead of ignoring this, he chose that moment to shout for the whole house to hear, “That’ll teach you for being such a freak, boy!” No doubt that Uncle Vernon would take an opportunity to make Harry miserable. 

Harry was now severely dampening his pillow with his tears. He decided that if he’s going to stay in this bed for a long time, he had better make the bed a cleaner place. He stood up, tears still in his eyes, and went over to the window sill where a tissue box lay. Looking out the window, he saw a bright light two rows of houses over. The light got brighter and brighter. Harry dried his eyes and picked up his glasses so he could see clearly. It wasn’t one light but two. They looked like car headlights, but they washed out whatever was behind them. Harry looked out the window with increasing curiosity. 

As the source of the light grew even closer, Harry saw that it was indeed car headlights. A flying blue Ford Anglia was approaching Number Four Privet Drive, but Harry still couldn’t see who, if anyone, was at the wheel. Finally, it came right up to Harry’s window, and Harry was shocked. Ron Weasley was sitting in the back row of the car, and his brothers Fred and George were in the front, Fred at the wheel. Harry opened the window and George rolled down the car’s window. 

“Ron? What are you doing here?” asked Harry incredulously. 

“Rescuing you, mate,” said Ron, “Where are your things?” 

“In the cupboard under the stairs,” said Harry.

“Say no more, Harry,” said George, who pulled a wire with a carabiner attached to it from within the console of the car, and put it on the bars on the window. 

“Shall I go?” asked Fred playfully.

“Yes, let’s hurry!” said Ron quietly but urgently.

Fred stepped on the accelerator, and the car moved forward, pulling the bars and the window off the wall with a loud crash. There was a pause as Harry waited for Uncle Vernon to wake up and start screaming. Yet, that sound never came. Fred pulled the car next to the window and Ron and George got out of the car and ran out through Harry’s room and downstairs to grab Harry’s trunk. Harry gathered his things that he still had in the room. Ron and George ran back upstairs with the trunk and put it into the boot of the car. Ron closed the door behind him. Only Hedwig’s cage was left, and as George picked her up, she screeched loud and high. Harry, Ron, and George covered their ears, and in doing so, George dropped the cage with another loud bang. 

“BOY!” came a shout from beyond Harry’s bedroom wall. Harry heard furious footsteps coming from down the hall. Harry picked up Hedwig’s cage and tossed it to Ron. Ron got into the car where Fred was holding it in place. As soon as Ron got in, Harry’s bedroom door opened with a thud. Harry and George spun around. Uncle Vernon was framed by the doorway in absolute fury. 

“You’re not going anywhere, boy!” shouted Uncle Vernon. 

“Pleasure meeting you, too, Mr. Dursley,” said George, and he and Harry ran for it. George jumped into the passenger seat, and Harry jumped into the back row where Ron and Hedwig were. He was in the car, but Uncle Vernon’s arm had grabbed Harry’s left leg. His fingernails dug into Harry’s lower leg, and Harry screamed in pain. 

“Hang onto something, Harry!” shouted Ron, and Harry grabbed the back of George’s seat. Fred hit the accelerator again, and the car rushed forward. Uncle Vernon lost his grip on Harry, and fell to the front garden below. 

“We don’t want people like him weighing you down, Harry,” said Fred amusingly. Harry laughed and closed the car door. 

“Thank you so much. I owe you all,” said Harry, buckling his safety belt. 

“Rubbish,” said George, “All rescue missions are free of charge.” 

“As is our witty banter,” said Fred. 

“What were those bars there for?” asked Ron. 

“A house-elf named Dobby showed up in my bedroom and said that terrible things were happening at Hogwarts and that I shouldn’t return. He had intercepted letters from you and Hermione, Ron. He then did some magic that ruined my aunt and uncle’s dinner with some potential clients for my uncle’s company. I got an owl saying that if I did any more underage magic, I’d be expelled. Knowing I couldn’t use magic to escape, my uncle put bars on my window, and they only gave me food twice a day. Don’t laugh, but I was actually about to cry myself to sleep before you showed up,” said Harry.

“No laughing matter that is, Harry,” said Fred.

“And trust us, we know what is and isn’t a laughing matter,” said George, “a git like your uncle may be comical in appearance, but what he seems to have done to you is no laughing matter.” 

“How did you know I was locked up?” asked Harry.

“We didn’t know the specifics, but we knew something was wrong when you hadn’t written to us all summer,” said Ron, “Hermione hadn’t received any letters from you all summer, either and she said we should probably do something.”

“But why you and not her? Hermione lives far closer to me,” said Harry.

“The girl’s love of the rules,” said George.

“She’s becoming more like Percy even when she’s not around him,” said Fred. 

“But why did Dumbledore even send you back there?” asked Ron. There was a pause while Harry reconsidered every thought he’d had about this matter.

“I don’t know, Ron, but it seems really unlike him to send me back to a place I’d be miserable,” said Harry. Then he changed the subject. 

“Do your parents know you’re here?” he asked. Ron, Fred, and George all said “nope” at the same time. Harry looked out the window. He was now clearly not near Little Whinging or London. The short darkness of the summer nights in England had already turned to dawn. 

“If mum knew where we were, she’d have a coronary,” said George.

“But if she didn’t know she’d be just as afraid,” said Fred.

“Bless our mum; she fears nothing more than losing us,” said George. 

“Even if she might not be able to tell which one of us would be dead,” said Fred, pointing at his twin. 

“Hush, you,” said George. Harry laughed. 

“Once we get back, we’ll ask Mum if she knows why you might be sent back to your relatives,” said Ron. 

“I doubt she’d know,” said Harry.

“Don’t doubt our mum,” said George.

“She knows everything,” said Fred, somewhat sarcastically but also in a way that showed some slight degree of fear.

“Right,” said Harry. The countryside was complete. There was a silence for a while as Fred navigated the landscape below. The only sounds were the hum of the engine and the occasional screeching of Hedwig. There were no houses around except for one in the distance. It was a ramshackle multi-story dwelling that clearly needed magic to keep it from falling apart. This was clearly the Weasleys’ home. 

“There it is,” said Ron. 

“We call it the Burrow,” said Fred.

“Don’t ask why. We call it home. We think it’s weird that it has a name,” said George. The car dipped and lowered to a gravel road leading up to an animal pen. The sun was visible now. 

The car landed somewhat roughly. A gate in front of them opened on its own like one at a level crossing. Fred manoeuvred the Ford Anglia to a halt in front of the door. 

“Welcome, Harry,” said Ron.

“Where are we?” asked Harry.

“Ottery St. Catchpole. All the way in Devon,” said Ron, “Your aunt and uncle can’t find you here.”

“A hundred miles passes by quickly when you’re with your friends, eh, Harry?” asked George.

“I suppose so,” said Harry. Fred and George pulled Harry’s trunk from the boot and carried it into the house. Ron and Harry followed. Harry carried Hedwig’s cage. Inside the Burrow felt small and cozy. Harry had entered into a kitchen with a table that was just as long as the room itself, and it led into the sitting room with very worn sofas. The more Harry saw of the Burrow the more he was amazed. Everything was operated by magic. Hogwarts was like this, too, but due to the Burrow’s smaller size Harry could see many more of the important details at once. Self-operating knitting needles, a set of dishes that washed itself, and various other pieces of genius filled the house. Harry’s attention was caught by a clock on the wall that instead of the times of day, showed the location of the members of the Weasley family. The hands labeled ‘Ron’, ‘Fred’, and ‘George’ moved from ‘Missing’ to ‘Home,’ where clock hands labeled ‘Ginny’, ‘Molly’, and ‘Percy’ already were. The hand labeled ‘Arthur’ was listed at ‘Work,’ and hands labeled ‘Bill’ and ‘Charlie’ were listed for ‘Gringotts’ and ‘Romania,’ the latter of which had clearly been added to the clock after all the other settings. Harry chuckled that there was a slot labeled ‘Mortal Peril.’ 

“It’s not much, but it’s home,” said Ron. 

“It’s brilliant, Ron,” said Harry. Fred and George sat down in the sitting room. 

“Fred?”

“What, George?” 

“I’m driving next time,” said George, not very quietly. 

“YOU’LL DO NO SUCH THING!” came a loud voice from upstairs. It must have been Mrs. Weasley. She came downstairs. 

“Told you, Harry. She knows everything,” said Fred, who was visibly anticipating the outburst that was about to happen. 

“WELL I DID NOT KNOW WHERE YOU WERE LAST NIGHT!” shouted Mrs. Weasley at Fred, George, and Ron. She hadn’t noticed Harry quite yet. 

“Beds empty, no note, car gone. You could have crashed! You could have been seen! What in Merlin’s name were you three doing?” she said. 

“Harry, mum,” said Ron sheepishly. Mrs. Weasley turned around and switched her face to a loving smile.

“Harry! How are you?” she asked, and before Harry could answer, she whispered in his ear, “I don’t blame you for what I’m yelling at them for. Just wait a minute.” Mrs. Weasley turned back to her three sons. 

“You’re lucky to be unhurt! That was most irresponsible!” she yelled again.

“They were starving him, mum,” said Fred. 

“There were bars on his window,” said George. 

“They were trying to keep him from going back to Hogwarts,” said Fred. 

“The poor lad was about to cry himself to sleep!” said George. Both the twins looked uncharacteristically sad and serious. There was a pause.

“Well, your  _ hearts _ are in the right place but your  _ minds _ are not,” said Mrs. Weasley. 

“What were we supposed to do, then?” asked Ron, “let him starve? We didn’t know because his mail and ours had been intercepted!”

“No. You should’ve told your father that you thought your friend was being mistreated, and the adults would have sorted it out and made it all better,” said Mrs. Weasley.

“But I’m here, now. Doesn’t that already make it all better?” asked Harry. Ron was shocked by how blunt he was. 

“Quite right, Harry,” said Mrs. Weasley, “Time for a spot of breakfast, but I’m not done talking to you three about this.” 

“Yes, mum,” said Ron, Fred, and George in unison. Percy came down, greeted Harry, and helped his mother with breakfast. Within minutes, a delicious-looking breakfast had filled the overlong table. 

“Tuck in, everyone,” said Mrs. Weasley. Harry sat down between Ron and George. 

“Should we wake Ginny?” asked Fred. 

“Yes, we should,” said George. 

“Let’s have Percy do that,” said Mrs. Weasley sharply. Percy nodded, and got up from the chair. 

“There’s a contrast,” said Fred. Percy sighed loudly and walked up the stairs out of sight. Harry heard a few loud knocks coming from above him. 

“You three are to degnome the garden today,” said Mrs. Weasley. 

“In this heat?” said George. 

“Surely that’s less of a risk to life and limb than flying that car is,” said Mrs. Weasley. Harry couldn’t help but laugh. Percy came back down the stairs and said, “She’s awake; she’ll be down in a moment.”

“Did you tell her who’s here?” asked Fred.

“Or did you not want to spoil the surprise?” asked George. 

“Lay off that at once!” said Percy. 

“Exactly,” said Mrs. Weasley. 

Harry, Ron, Fred, George, Percy, and Mrs. Weasley all tucked in for real now. Two plates were still untouched, presumably for Mr. Weasley and Ginny. 

“Arthur should be back soon, he’s usually back by now,” said Mrs. Weasley, more to herself than anyone else. A set of the sounds of small footsteps came from above, followed by a gently closing door. 

The girl who Harry had seen twice before at King’s Cross came down the stairs. Ginny Weasley had grown slightly since Harry had last seen her, but he could tell he was easily a head taller than her. 

“Mummy, have you seen my jumper?” asked Ginny. 

“Yes dear, it was on the sofa. The knitting needles should be finished with it now,” said Mrs. Weasley. Ginny looked at the table. 

“Hello,” said Harry in a friendly manner. Ginny didn’t say anything back, but her face went as red as her hair and her pupils dilated. She immediately turned around and ran off towards where her jumper was described to be. 

“What’s wrong?” asked Harry. 

“It’s just Ginny. She’s been talking about you all summer. Bit annoying really,” said Ron.

“But I’m nobody to be afraid of. I’m just Harry. Just Harry, that’s all,” said Harry. 

“Yeah, but you’re not ‘Just Harry’ to her, mate,” said Fred. 

“She thinks of you as the hero who defeated You Know Who,” said George out loud, before leaning in Harry’s ear, “She fancies you, Harry.” 

“Oh,” said Harry, not really knowing what to make of that, “I don’t think of myself as a hero, though.” 

“Are you joking? You’ve stopped You Know Who’s plans twice now. It’s only added to your grandeur,” said Fred.

“Thanks, Fred, but I wouldn't use ‘grandeur’ to describe myself. She can come back, I’m really not that hard to talk to,” said Harry. 

“That’s very nice of you, dear,” said Mrs. Weasley. There was a pause, and Mrs. Weasley raised her voice again. 

“Ginny, dear? Can you come back? Your breakfast is getting cold,” she said. No response came. Mrs. Weasley walked over to the sitting room and sat down next to her daughter. They were far away, but Harry could still discern their speech. 

“I’m not hungry, mum,” said Ginny. 

“Yes, you are. We all are. Come on,” said her mother. 

“But, he’s there,” said Ginny shyly.

“There’s nothing to be worried about, dear,” said Mrs. Weasley kindly. Fred and George chuckled at their mother saying there was nothing to worry about. Mrs. Weasley gently walked Ginny up off the sofa and slowly towards the table. Harry decided to talk in a way as normal as possible so as not to scare her. 

“That’s it, dear. Four of your brothers are on a first name basis with him,” said Mrs. Weasley. Ginny said nothing in response. 

Ginny finally sat down next to her mother, clearly trying to look away from Harry now. She still wasn’t saying anything. Ron and the twins had already finished eating. 

“Hi, I’m Harry,” said Harry gently. 

“Hi,” said Ginny sheepishly, still bright red in her face and her ears. She mumbled, “I’m Ginny,” in a way that was barely audible at all. Percy looked at Harry quite sternly, so as to make sure Harry didn’t scare his sister. Harry was taken aback and chose to look away from Percy. 

“How are you?” asked Harry kindly. He did genuinely want to know Ginny more than he did, as he had already learned a lot about Fred, George, Ron, and Percy. 

“Fine,” said Ginny in a way that seemed rushed, but nobody pressed the issue, “and you?” she asked hesitantly. 

“Better here than where I was,” said Harry, “Your brothers deserve all the credit.” 

“That’s a matter of perspective,” said Mrs. Weasley. 

“What’d you do?” asked Ginny, facing Fred and George.

“Ginny, there are some situations in which even everyone’s favourite hero-” said George, ruffling Harry’s hair, “can’t get out of.” 

“George, I just said I’m not a hero. You don’t need to call me one,” said Harry.

“We took Dad’s car to free Harry from his horrible relatives last night. I drove,” said Fred. Harry heard the ding of the bell to the kitchen door. A balding red-haired man with glasses came in silently, clearly trying to see if he could do so without being noticed by Fred and George. Mrs. Weasley started walking towards him, but he signaled her to stay put. Mrs. Weasley looked annoyed, but accepted it. He walked up behind Fred and George. 

“He drove ‘horribly’ is what he meant to say,” said George. 

“Well George, who’s telling the story?” asked Fred.

“We got all of Harry’s things into his car and drove away just as Harry’s uncle tried to grab him through the window,” said Ron. 

“He fell about fifteen feet into the hedges below! It was quite exciting!” said George. 

“And we got Harry back here no harm done!” said Fred, rubbing his hands together with the last three words.

“So that’s where you were last night,” said Mr. Weasley. Fred and George turned around and their father smiled at them. 

“Morning, dad,” said Fred and George in unison, awkwardly. 

“Where was all of this?” asked Mr. Weasley. 

“All the way in Surrey, Arthur,” said Mrs. Weasley, who came over and kissed her husband. 

“Dear me, and you didn’t embellish any of that?” asked Mr. Weasley, “Extraordi-” Mrs. Weasley gave him a very disapproving look. 

“That was very wrong of you, boys; very wrong indeed,” Mr. Weasley finished reluctantly, “Which means you must be Harry Potter?” he asked. 

“Just Harry, Mr. Weasley,” said Harry. 

“Of course, Harry,” said Mr. Weasley. 

“But that right there; going outside the rules, daring rescues in the middle of the night, saving a helpless person from bad people; it’s far more heroic than anything I’ve done,” said Harry, turning back to Ginny, “I’m just Harry.” 

“If that’s how you define heroism,” whispered Percy to himself.

“Alright,” said Ginny, smiling slightly, though still blushing intensely. 

There was a pause and then Percy and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley left the table. George leaned over to Harry.

“Mate, I was setting you up to say ‘I’m not a hero.’ You need to be more receptive,” whispered George. 

“Thanks, George,” whispered Harry, not really knowing what to think of that. 

Harry got up from the table and went off with Ron to explore the rest of the house in the time allotted before the degnoming, whatever that was. 


End file.
